Child of the Universe - The diary of a 235 year-old teenager
by Ana Hazel
Summary: "my birth name is Claire Giovannelli and my original records state that I was born on the tenth day of December in the year 1777 by the base of Mount Etna in Italy. That's right, I'm 235 years-old, but I don't look a day passed 18." / Related to 'Bring forth the Children' / Written for the 2013 Dear Diary Challenge at the Jedi Council Forums.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Child of the Universe - The diary of a 235 year-old teenager

**Characters: **Claire Giovannelli (OC), Darius, Duncan MacLoud, Methos, Joe Dawson, etc.

**Notes:** Written for the _2013 Dear Diary Challenge_ from the Jedi Council Forums.

**About the Challenge:** We have to keep the diary of a character (OC or canon) for a whole year; we are required to update the diary at least twice a month.

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_Vienna, 4th of January of 2013_

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I have never kept a diary before, but Joe gave me this one for Christmas and assured me that it would help my state of mind. I don't see how writing will help, but I promised I'd give it a try and I always keep my promises.

How does one start a diary, anyway? Do we just write down what we did during the day? Do we jot down our innermost thoughts and wishes? Do we scribble whatever nonsense goes through our minds? Do we draw on the blank pages? None of these feel right to me.

Maybe I'll just start at the beginning and introduce myself - my birth name is Claire Giovannelli and my original records state that I was born on the tenth day of December in the year 1777 by the base of Mount Etna in Italy. That's right, I'm 235 years-old, but I don't look a day passed 18. This is because I am an immortal, but I'll explain that later. For now, I'll continue with my introduction.

I don't know if I was really born on that date and in that place because I have no idea who my real parents are (this is common among immortals and I'll try to explain that later too), I just know what my adoptive parents told me. That I was found as a newborn in a niche under a tree by the side of Mount Etna early on that day. I guess I was lucky to have been found by such wonderful people who raised me as their own and offered me the best eighteen years of my life. We had so much fun!

I had an uncommon childhood for many reasons, albeit none of them related to my posterior immortality. You see, diary, I was found by circus people. My mother was the sister of the owner of the Circus Giovannelli and a brilliant performer in her own right. She was a trapeze artist. I miss her so much.

Another reason my childhood was uncommon was my looks. You see, I have albinism. My hair is almost completely white, my skin is even paler and my eyes are light, almost transparent shade of blue. This is why was lucky to be found by circus people. Because, otherwise, my life would have been that much harder. Ordinary folks don't look too kindly on different people.

But my family loved me dearly. My mother was not married, even though she already had a child of her own, my brother Samuel, but I did not lack a father figure. My uncle Giovannelli more than filled in the gap. I also had two cousins - Giuseppe and Giovanna. We bickered all the time, but we were very close. Then there were the rest of the circus performers, who even though were not actual relatives, were still members of the family - the clowns, the tamers, the knife throwers, the acrobats...

God, I miss them all so much... it hurts now.

Maybe this diary thing isn't such a good idea after all.


	2. Chapter 2

_Vienna, 18th of January of 2013_

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Today my mood matches the weather – it's cold and gray and it's raining. I don't have to work today so here I am. Over the last couple of weeks thought a lot about my childhood and early years, so much more than I have in decades. I think it was this diary that did it so I guess I'll give it another try. There is still so much to remember...

Like I said before, I grew up in the circus and that made all the difference.

Our circus wasn't big, it wasn't anywhere near the size and importance of the Great Royal Circus that would turn up later, but we performed well and were known for our originality. My mother started out as a tightrope dancer, but then decided to try something new - she hung a rope swing from a high structure and would perform acrobatics on it. It was a rudimentary form of what would later become the trapeze and, of course, my mother would never be credited for it, but that was okay, she did it for the fun. We also had a fantastic animal show featuring dogs riding horses, and my brother and I would often participate by doing acrobatics on the horses' backs. To this day I can't seem to just sit still while riding. Over the years we featured many acts - performers that would stay with us for a season or two and then move on, so we tried our best to learn from them and enrich our spectacle.

Naturally, we traveled a lot. We toured Europe every year, performing in various places and even got invited to appear in some of the ruling courts. We performed for Emperor Leopold II in the Hofburg when I was twelve and for Catherine the Great when I was fifteen. When I was nine, we performed in Versailles, for Louie XVI and Marie Antoinette. It was wonderful. Marie Antoinette gave me a pink ribbon for my hair and told me I was very pretty. She liked exotic creatures such as me. I think she wanted to keep me but, of course, my mother wouldn't hear of it.

Sometimes we performed in the festival. It was at one such festival, in Vienna in 1785, that we met Mozart. He was there conducting a small orchestra that played some of his serenades and I fell in love... with music. I was seven years-old at the time and to me that music sounded like the angels singing. After that, I troubled everyone I ever met to teach me whatever instrument or song they might know. I didn't know if the life of a musician would be compatible with that of a circus performer, but I knew that if, when the time came, my family would support me in my choice.

As I was saying, we traveled continuously. But no matter where we were before or would go after, we always spent Christmas in Paris and we always visited Darius in his chapel.

Darius... Darius is probably the most important figure in my long life. Ever since I can remember we visited him on Christmas and he taught us things. He talked to us and wanted to know all about our adventures. Even though he disguised it well, I could always tell he had a special interest in me. Every time we left him, he would make a point to tell me that if I ever needed help, _any help at all_, I should come to him.

I would learn the reason for his interest later.


	3. Chapter 3

_Marseille, 25th of January of 2013_

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I don't like Marseille, but since I chose to make my living as a musician (I am a cellist, this time around), I must go where the orchestra goes and this week we appear in Marseille.

The reason I don't like Marseille is not because of the city itself. It is a beautiful city with beautiful beaches and delicious cuisine. It's just that it was here, a few miles away from where I am right now, that I lost everything.

In the spring of 1796 the French Revolution was setting France and its neighbors on fire. The roads were becoming ever more dangerous and demand for performances of a traveling circus had dimmed considerably. This was when my uncle decided we should try our luck elsewhere and that was why we made out way to Marseille. He hoped to arrange for transportation to Constantinople, a place he had longed to visit for many years. Because many of our performers did not want to venture in such an unfamiliar journey, by the time we reached the south of France our numbers were less than a dozen. Perhaps that was why the band of deserters decided to attack us.

It was almost nightfall when we reached the outskirts of the port city, so my uncle decided to make camp in a small valley by a stream where the horses could drink fresh water and we could bathe. He decided he would go into the city in the morning and seek out a captain to take us on our journey.

During the night we heard our dogs barking and realized there were strangers in our camp. The men went out of the tents to see what was going on and were immediately greeted by the sounds of gunfire. I distinctly remember my brother yelling for us to run and I know he did not finish his warning.

I can't say how long the brawl lasted. I know that my mother tried to lead us, the women, to the horses, but we were intercepted by some of the attackers. Next thing I know a huge pain ripped through my chest and I fell to the ground. The last thing I remember was hearing my cousin Giovanna screaming from behind some bushes and our old dog Luka growling like a beast.

When I came to the sun was coming up.

At first I though I was just waking up from a nightmare, but when I got up I saw the desolation of what had been my camp. Everything was broken and the bodies - _my family_ - lay where they had fallen. They were all dead, even the dogs. The horses were nowhere to be found – undoubtedly they were taken by our aggressors.

Before I realized it, tears were running down my face. When I raised my hand to clear my eyes, I found it covered in dry blood – my blood. That's when I remembered that I had been shot. My once white dress was now red and there were three holes in the fabric that covered my chest. The strangest thing was (and I remember this feeling so surreal) that there were no wounds under the holes, not even a scar. But at the time, it did not occur to me to question my lack of wounds or why I was alive. All I knew was that my family was dead and they could not be left out there. My thoughts were torn between doing right by my family and the fear that our attackers would return. I ended up discarding the second possibility (after all what could they possibly do that they hadn't already done) and concentrate on honoring my family.

I gathered all our destroyed belongings and the bodies and piled them up. Then I lit them into a funeral pyre the way I had heard the ancients used to do in the stories my uncle told us. Somehow this type of funeral seemed more appropriate to the people they were, free and extraordinary, than a burial.

As the fire burned, I prayed. I stood there for hours, praying for them. During that time, it crossed my mind to jump in and join them, but something always held me back. Maybe some part of me already knew that it wouldn't have worked.

Looking back, it's a wonder how no one else showed up, lured by the smoke. I guess people were busy.

After the pyre burned out, I was left alone. I never felt so lost in my life. I walked aimlessly for the rest of the day, not caring about the looks people gave me. I must have been a sight – a white creature, covered in dirt and with a bloody white dress. This was how I walked away from Marseille.

I can't really remember the next few days, but I know that at some point I came across a group of nuns. They took pity on me and took me to their nunnery. They offered me food and shelter, and asked me no questions. I think that they thought I had been raped, but my lack of physical injuries confused them. They started asking questions to which I had no answers to give and their questions echoed in my head. When? Why? How?

One night, as I relieved the attack in my dreams, I heard Darius' voice telling me to go to him. I left the nunnery under the cloak of darkness that same night, leaving only a note behind - _'I leave in search of answers. Thank you for your care.'_

As I walked purposely into the dead of night, I wondered if I hadn't, in fact, died that night. Even if my body was still breathing, it felt like the carefree happy circus girl I had been no longer existed.

It would take me decades to find her again.


	4. Chapter 4

_Toulouse, 1st of February of 2013_

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After my 'death' in Marseille, it took me almost a month to make it to Paris.

The trip itself I did by foot, staying close to the main roads, but not so close that I would draw attention. A young woman traveling alone would be noticed, so before I left the nunnery, I managed to get my hands on a set of boy's clothes and I cut my hair short. Along with the clothes, I took a hooded cape that would hide my albinic complexion. In a time of turmoil you do not want to draw attention for being different - like I said before, folks don't like people who are different.

Because of my caution, or maybe out of pure dumb luck, my trip was uneventful. I had no money so I could not afford shelter of food. Fortunately, if there was one thing I knew well was how to survive on the road; how to find food in the forests and the best places to rest for the night. My errant upbringing always did come in handy.

As I walked through the gates of Paris, I saw the city in a way I had never seen before. It was true that, with the arrival of the spring and of Napoleon to the Italian front, the war had just taken a new and more volatile turn, but I was still shocked at the difference to the city. I had been there just a few months ago and I had not felt it. Perhaps it was because I was just a child then and now I anything but a child.

I paused for a moment, gathering the courage to take the next step into the crowed. It was this crowd that had sprung the revolution and they had done it because they were tired of being bled by the court. But now it was the war itself that bled them. There was discontent and mistrust in the air.

I drew my cape tighter and made my way to Saint Joseph's Church and to Darius.

Darius' church had always had an eerie feel to it, but this time it was even more pronounced. Maybe because it was now the only place I knew that I might call home. For the first time since my family's death I felt at peace.

An alter boy came by and I asked about Father Darius. He said that Darius was out but would return in a few hours so I decided to wait. I found a bench that was not visible from the entrance and I just sat on it.

I don't know how long I stayed there. My mind wandered off as it did every time I had an idle moment. As of late, it lingered on my lost family and all those unanswered questions. I had come to notice, as I traveled to Paris, that my ordeal had changed me physically as well was mentally. I had more energy and could get by longer with less food or water. I walked all day without needing a break, as long as it wasn't at a very fast pace. Also, the strangest things of all, I healed so fast... I noticed this when I tripped on a fallen log and made a deep gash on my leg. It healed completely in less than a minute. That had never happened before the attack.

I was sitting in the dark when Darius arrived. Of all the strange things that had happened to me at that time, his arrival triggered the strangest. I was sitting there and suddenly I felt this inexplicable apprehension, like a new sense had developed and was telling me to watch my back. I got up suddenly and started looking around. That's when I saw Darius. He would later explain to me that this was how it felt to be in the proximity of another immortal; it is how we know each other.

When I saw it was him I ran and he welcomed me with open arms. This was a person I had known my entire life and I trusted him completely.

I cried in his arms. I cried even more than I had at the funeral pyre. As I cried I heard his whisper _'it's alright child, it's alright'_ in a way that was not patronizing, but soothing. I knew that I did not have to tell him that I had lost everything because he already knew it.

Eventually, he took me to the back of the church, to the place he called home. He gave me a cup of calming tea and I told him the details of what had happened. When he nodded in understanding I asked him why I had not died. That was when he told me I was now an immortal and that he had always known I had the potential to become an immortal. When I asked him how he knew, he revealed that he was one too.

That first day, he left it at that. He merely led me to a small cottage, just a few yards away from his church. He said that this was still holy ground and that I would be safe here. Then he told me to rest.

That night, I slept soundly for the first time since my 'death'.


	5. Chapter 5

_Orleans, 8th of February of 2013_

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Over the course of the next few months, Darius became my mentor. I followed him while he tended to the poor and famished of Paris and he would school me on the rules and stories of immortality. Because he already knew mine, he started by telling me _his_ story.

Darius was born in the year 50 after the birth of Christ, somewhere east of the Urals and had been found and raised by a tribe of Goth nomads. Among them he thrived and became a great warrior, eventually being chosen to lead his people in battle. It was in one such battle, on his forty-fifth summer that he went through his first death and became immortal.

That did not stop him from continuing to lead his people. I mean, what warrior people wouldn't want a leader that could vanquish death? So he continued as such for the next three-hundred-and-so years. They loved him, they trusted him and they followed him right to Rome, leaving their mark in the downfall of the once great Empire.

But Darius wouldn't stop there; he wanted more, much more. He believed it was his destiny to rune the known world. He would never fulfill that destiny, though.

After leaving Rome, Darius led his men to Gaulle. Following the Roman trail of conquest, he reached Paris. After ordering his men to set camp outside the city's gates, Darius met a holy man, another immortal. This man would change Darius' life forever.

Darius didn't know it at the time but this other immortal, Emrys, was the oldest living being ever to walk the face of the Earth. He was older than every city in the world, older than civilization itself. This man had witnessed the very birth of Mankind.

But, I repeat, Darius did not know any of this at the time, so he challenged the other man to a dual - that is the immortal way and the only way Darius had ever known until then.

Emrys would not fight him, he had never embraced the immortal way to begin with, always choosing the path of peace and he would not give up that path to save his life. But Darius would not be swayed and he took Emrys' head without a second thought, thus ending his walk on Earth.

The quickening that followed burned through Darius' soul in a way no other had ever before. His thousands of years of touching other people's lives branded themselves into Darius' heart, carving out the warlord and leaving only the man.

It was more violent that any other death. Like the phoenix reborn from its own ashes, Darius returned as a new man.

After that, he relinquished his station and disbanded his army. In hopes of atoning for centuries of sins, he stayed in Paris and took the holy man's place in the newly-formed Christian community.

As the centuries passed, Darius traveled a lot, to take solace where it was needed or to further his studies of the human soul and of the art of healing. But the one thing he never did again was to pick up a weapon and strike at another.

This was how he became the man he was when I met him.

It took a full day for Darius to tell me his tale and I know he only told me the short version of it, sparing me the most gruesome details. He hoped that his story would help me find my answers, but as I was just beginning to realize, for every answer I got, a dozen brand new questions would emerge.


	6. Chapter 6

_Vienna, 15th of February of 2013_

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I'm back home again. I chose Vienna as my home this time because... well because I'm a musician and Vienna is the city of musicians.

The tour went as always - big turnouts, sold-out theaters, standing ovations... the usual.

At least this time we didn't go to Paris. There was a time I loved Paris above all other cities. For centuries I call it my home but now it feels as empty and cold as a mausoleum...

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I was talking about the questions Darius' story had sprung in me.

So, after Darius finished his story, the first question that popped in my mind was Emrys' death. Darius had told me before that we were immortal and therefore could not die, so which was it? This was an easy one - the only way to kill an immortal is to cut off his or her head or rather, to be more exact, if one severs the connection between the head and the heart.

Nothing else works when killing an immortal. You can shoot him, stab, drown, burn, poison, whatever... he will keep coming back. The only thing you'll accomplish is to slow him down or render him unconscious while the body heals.

Then I asked why Darius would want to kill Emrys in the first place. It didn't seem to me that he was a threat in any way. This is when Darius told me about the Game, the Quickening and the Prize. I could tell this was hard for him to explain because he did not believe in any of it; he had when he was a warlord, but not anymore. But these were the rules and he knew he had to tell me about them.

He started by telling me that the reason he had taken Emrys' head was that he wanted his quickening. The quickening is the power unleashed by an immortal's death. It comprises all of his life, his knowledge and all he has experienced, his very life-force. When an immortal takes another's head, he takes in his power and sometimes his memories. This was why Emrys' quickening made such an impact on Darius. This is what drives immortals to hunt each other. It is the Game.

According to legend (yes, _legend_; there is nothing factual about this next piece of information) in the end there can be only one. This is to say, we'll kill each other until there's only one left. That _One_ will have all the power and do only God knows what with it.

I think this is a load of crap. There are always new immortals popping up in one place or another so there will never be just one left. This is why I don't play the Game. I defend myself when I have to, but I don't hunt others to take their quickening. I don't like to take other immortals' quickening. It's extremely painful; it feels like you're being electrocuted by a hundred lightning bolts, and those who have witnessed it say it looks like it too. I have taken heads, but as I state above, only in self-defense.

Darius wouldn't even do that, which was why we argued so damn much. I wish I could take some of those arguments back.


	7. Chapter 7

_Vienna, 22nd of February of 2013_

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In order for someone to survive as an immortal, it is fundamental to learn how to properly use a sword. It doesn't matter that you don't _want_ to play the Game, you still need to know how to defend yourself against others that want your head. And you always have to be prepared to fight because you never know when another immortal will challenge you. True, it would not happen in a place full of people, but as soon as you find yourself in a dark alley or an empty garage, there would your opponent be, waiting for you. This is why we all carry swords. We hide them as best we can - I know of one immortal that keeps his disguised as a cane, which I find particularly ingenious. I keep mine in my instrument case, except when I have to go through customs, then I find it's best to just keep it in its proper case and say it's a collector's item. As long as you have the proper papers, no one bugs you about it.

All this I learned in due time, but back when I lived with Darius, I had no idea about these intricacies. As I said before, he hadn't picked up a weapon since the day he had taken Emrys' head and he wasn't about to make an exception by teaching me how to wield a sword. That's why, at first, I thought that I had a choice and that all other immortals would respect my choice, just like all immortals respect Holy Ground. (Didn't I mention this before? No fighting on Holy Ground - it's a rule. I don't know what would happen if someone broke that rule, because as far as I know, no one ever did.)

Like I said, I thought the choice was mine to make. Boy, was I wrong.

About seven months after my arrival in Paris, I was walking alone in a valley, five kilometers north of the city. I was looking for some herbs Darius needed to make medicine (I had sort of become his assistant) when I felt that sense of urgency we get when another one of us is around. I turned around to find a man standing behind me and he had already drawn out his sword.

I tried to tell him that I didn't want to fight and that I wasn't even armed, but he didn't care. He actually said that if I was foolish enough to go around unarmed, then I deserved what I was about to get.

I knew I was in trouble.

I won't describe the fight here, I don't know how to describe fights in writing. I'm just going to say that my eighteen years in a circus came more in handy than anyone would think. I'm very fast and light. I climb trees very well and I am not afraid to perform crazy acrobatic stunts. And, despite my poor eyesight (albinos are not known for having good eyes, although it's not as bad as most people think), I have a really good aim when I'm throwing rocks at people's heads. To cut this short, after we played cat and mouse for I don't know how long in the woods, I managed to knock him senseless and take his sword. It crossed my mind at the time that I could just run away while he was out but I decided against it. Maybe my judgment was still clouded by the attack that had taken my family, but I really believed this guy would come after me later on. It would only be over if I ended it at that moment.

So I did it. I took his head.

His quickening made me nauseous. The stories Darius had told me had not prepared me for the violence that was the power of another living being going through my body. This guy wasn't even that old.

As I walked back to Paris, his memories mixed with my own, confounding me. I didn't know his name and but I knew some rather intimate details about him that I do not care to recount now.

When I arrived at the church and saw Darius, I was still dragging the guy's sword behind me. Once again, words were not necessary to explain what had happened. This time, he did not comfort me. He knew, as I did, that my time with him had come to an end. I had taken my first head and, by immortal standards, I was ready to go off on my own (even if I wasn't _really_ ready).

I knew he was disappointed, but I couldn't tell if it was because I had killed the guy or because I was leaving.

A couple of days later, I left Paris for the first time in my immortal life.


	8. Chapter 8

_Vienna, 1st of March of 2013_

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It wasn't easy for me to leave Paris. During the months I spent with him, Darius' soothing presence pushed back the pain I felt for loosing my family and made me feel safe again. When I left, all that was gone. I felt alone again and this time I had no heading.

I had no idea of what I was going to do or where I going to go, so I just walked. I followed my own feet without thinking of where they'd lead me. For days on end., I had no idea of where I was and I really didn't care. I stayed away from the main roads and agglomerates and sought the peace of the woods. Walking through the wilder parts of the land, I went weeks without seeing another person, let alone talk to anyone. But that was what I wanted. I wanted to be left alone. Deep inside, I just wanted to disappear.

So I did. I found a little nook near the edge of a cliff, by the northern sea and I settled there. It was cold and harsh and completely deserted of people. Just the way I needed it to be.

While I was there I lost track of time. I didn't count the days. I didn't celebrate Christmas or any other date. I didn't care to.

For I don't know how long, I lived alone. Maybe 'lived' isn't the right word, maybe 'lingered' is more accurate. I 'lingered' alone. Yes, that's it.

I was alone for many changes of the seasons, and I would have remained alone for many more seasons if one winter day, while I was out hunting a rabbit, I had not heard a wail. It wasn't human but it was a familiar wail. I followed the sound until I found its source – it was two wolf pups, poking at their dead mother. It wasn't hard for me to decide to take them back with me. Despite my need to be alone, a part of me longed for the warmth of caring for another living creature, and those two cubs needed caring.

They were both females and one of them looked just like my old dog Luka when he was a puppy, a mesh of gray and white, so I gave her his name. The other one I named Alba because she was almost a white as I was.

They were my only solace in a time when I most needed solace. I opened my heart to them and they helped heal some of the pain.

More time went by and Luka and Alba grew up. When their second spring came they started spending more and more time away from me and I knew it was time to let their nature take over - it was time for them to join a pack and be the wolves they were supposed to be.

That summer, I had the pleasure of spotting them with puppies of their own. I felt like a grandmother and that made me smile. Even thought they weren't with me anymore, I knew I hadn't failed.

A few more seasons came and went and I still lingered in that no-man's land. I kept a close watch on the pack of wolves, trying to keep tabs on my little girls and I was content with that.

Then one day I heard a faraway roar. It was the sound of war coming my way. Napoleon was dead set on taking over Europe and his army had reached my little nook of the world. After I saw the pack of wolves leave their home and seek a quiet valley, I knew it was time for me to go too. My time of 'lingering' was over and it was time to start living again.

When I had arrived in my little corner of the cliffs 1797 was just starting, when I left the year 1805 was already warming up.


	9. Chapter 9

_Vienna, 8th of March of 2013_

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I wasn't sure of where I'd go when I abandoned my little nook by the northern sea, but what I did know was that I wanted to get as far away from the war as I possibly could. The problem was, the war was spreading everywhere.

This was why I turned my eyes to the west, beyond the sea, to America. It seemed to be far enough away from Napoleon's greed for me to never hear his name again.

But before I could venture beyond the Atlantic, another path called to me. It was time to go back to the place I felt as my home - Paris. Ever since I could remember, I visited Paris and Darius at least once a year, but now I had been away for more than eight. I wondered if the city had changed at all, but above all, I wondered if Darius would still be there and I prayed that he would be alright. Before I moved on, I knew I had to let him know that _I_ was still alright. Even though our paths were not the same, it didn't mean they couldn't cross each other from time to time.

My journey back to Paris was much faster than my journey away from that city years before. I would make some money as I moved by putting up some small one-woman acrobatic performances wich included music and stories, just like the troubadours of old, and with that money I bought passage in carriages that would tae me closer and closer. I only had to be careful and not cross another immortal's path because my skills with a sword were still pretty much null. I didn't even have a sword. I did, however, manage to get my hands on a gun, which I kept hidden, but still within easy reach.

I'm stating all this, because I did run in to one immortal during my trip and I did get to use my brand new gun on him. I'll summarize our encounter:

The sun was setting when I was arriving in Lille and I immediately felt that... for lack of a proper name, lets call it buzz. A few seconds later, there he was. He was tall and slender, with a somewhat pale complexion and dark hair. And he was carrying a broadsword that made me shiver. I immediately pulled out my gun and shot him before he coud even say a word. Then I ran from there as fast as I could.

Looking back, I know I overreacted and didn't even give that guy a chance, but in my own defense, I did not take his head. I just left him lying there. Hours later, I pondered on that and concluded nothing. Now I know, that the reason I didn't take his head like I had to that other immortal years before was the same reason that had given me the urge to not look for another hidden niche and instead made me seek out civilization - I was healing.

Two weeks later, I arrived in Darius' doorstep, but this time he wasn't alone. There was another immortal with him and it was the same man I had met outside of Lille.


	10. Chapter 10

_Vienna, 15th of March of 2013_

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The day I returned to Darius' church in the summer of 1805, was probably and to this day, the most awkward day of my life.

When I saw Darius standing next to my previous opponent, my first instinct was to run, my second instinct was to shoot him again and get him away from my friend. I came close to reaching for my gun again, but something stopped me. We were, after all, on Holy Ground so we were safe.

The moment Darius spotted me standing in his doorway, he immediately came to me, arms wide open, greeting me like no one had ever greeted me before. I could see the relief in his eyes. Undoubtedly, he had worried about me during those years. I, of course, greeted him back, but kept an eye on the third person standing there. I let go of Darius as soon as the other man started approaching us.

As I said before, he was tall and with a slender yet muscular figure. He had short dark hair and (something I had not noticed before) blue eyes, a shade darker than mine, but that could still be considered light. Come to think of it, they were pretty much like Darius' eyes.

As he came around, Darius introduced us and I learned that his name was Max and he was from the the Pyrenees. He was also a long time friend of Darius, although not one of his students. As my friend introduced me to _Max_, I noticed his attention centered on me. It was very uncomfortable. I imagined he found me somewhat familiar but was struggling with the when and where. I should add that when we had previously met, I was wearing a dark hooded cape that concealed my face. I, of course, said nothing that would help him identify me. I didn't want to get in trouble.

Soon after, Darius invited us into his place. He poured us a cup of tea and asked me to tell him what I had been up to. I'm sure I blushed at this point, but still said nothing about Lille. I just told him that after I left I needed some time alone and got it. Now I was feeling restless and hoped to make it to América. At this point Max said that he too was going to América to seek a new life. He had seen way too much war already. Besides he was looking for an adventure.

Since we apparently were going the same way anyway, Darius asked Max if he was willing to escort me. I was NOT happy, but what could I do. At that point I had a really hard time to say no to people I cared about. So it was settled that Max would go with me to América and that we'd be leaving within a week. I swear, I felt like a kid all over again.

For the rest of the day, we talked mostly about the war and the effects it was having on the people (well, they talked while I tried to become invisible), and I learned nothing more about my new _escort_. I didn't prod anyway. A part of me was still hoping I wouldn't have to talk or see him again.

Later that day Darius left us to perform the evening's mass and Max took the opportunity to also excuse himself. Just before he walked away he turned to me, gave me a teasing lopsided grin and said something like: _"Relax Claire. I won't bite you. Just be sure you don't shoot me again"_.

I swear I turned bright red.


	11. Chapter 11

_Vienna, 22nd of March of 2013_

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As it turned out, traveling with Max wasn't so bad after all. After my I got passed my initial misgivings, I found out that he was actually... fun, although he could be very annoying.

So we made our way to Calais, hoping to get a transport there to England and after, to America. While we traveled, and when we found isolated places, Max took the opportunity to teach me how to use the sword. He even found a blacksmith to make one for me, though I paid for it. But I think the best part of the journey was that I got to ride a horse again. I hadn't done that since Marseille. I hadn't realized how much I missed it.

While we weren't training, we talked about our lives and he told me his story. Max had been born in 1167, in the north of France and quite near Calais, in fact. Like me (and all other immortals I have ever met), he was a foundling. From what he told me, he was found by a servant woman who worked for the local lord, Lord Henri du Champs, and ended up being adopted by him because the lord was getting old and had no sons. When he became old enough, he joined the Crusades. As he told me this, he tried to explain that it was something all the young noble young men of his country did and that he was too young too fully understand what he was getting into. He went because the others went; he believed because the others believed; he died because the others died.

Max had his fist death at the age of twenty-one, in the battlefield just outside of Jerusalem. He woke up to immortality surrounded by the bodies of his friends and he end up in the infidels' prison just like the other survivors. It was there that he met another immortal - an infidel in fact, named Azeem Ibn Adiz. They became friends and Azeem became Max's teacher. At this point, Max told me that Azeem taught him much more that the ways of immortality; he taught him to live and to think for himself. It was through Azeem that Max met Darius.

Over the course of his hundreds of years, Max traveled the known world. He bragged about having been everywhere, from the land of the rising sun in the far east to the jungles of Amazon forest. Traveling with Portuguese explorers in their caravels, he discovered his love for the sea. He told me that, no matter where he was, if he could see the sea, he never felt lost.

Max also explained to me some of the more practical aspects of being immortal. Things that Darius, being so idealistic, never thought to tell me about. Things like how to keep our immortality a secret and in whom should we trust. How to deal with the inevitable loss of the people we loved and how to keep it from tearing us apart. He explained that despite the fact that there are many who would cut off my head as soon as I let my guard down, there are also many who have the potential to be my friends for life and that I would learn the difference. Which, by the way, is harder than it looks. He finished by telling me that he had friendships lasting hundreds of years and that, even though sometimes he didn't encounter these friends for the extend of a human life, when they got together again, it was like not a single day had passed.

When I asked Max if he was still friends with Azeem, he told me he was, despite the fact that his mentor had already lost his head more than one hundred years before.

That saddened me and made me regret my decision to leave. Maybe I should have stayed with Darius and made sure he didn't lose _his_ head. Darius was the last link I had with my family and I believed that if I lost him I would lose them forever.

Max assured me that I didn't need to worry; Darius was like the huge everlasting rock, he would always be there when I wanted to come home. I couldn't help but think that every rock eventually crumbles.


	12. Chapter 12

_Vienna, 29th of March of 2013_

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It took nearly four months for me and Max to arrive in America, but we were in no rush. As I said before, we stopped a lot, sometimes for training, others for sightseeing, or even to visit some of his friends. In fact, were barely out of Paris and already he was dragging me out of our path to visit the De Valincourts in their castle. It was worth it though; I still count this couple among my closest friends.

The Valincourts are fun. They met in 1698 and got married a few months later. They are STILL married to this day. Sure, they had a few falling outs, but they always get back together. ALWAYS! They are the main reason I (and many others) still believe in soul mates and true love. Max became friends with Robert because they both share a deep love for the sea. Robert used to be a pirate, in the good old days as he puts it. Angelina is Italian, like me, and a lover of fine music and the arts. I was surprised to find out that she already knew me from the circus and that, like Darius, she kept an eye on me from afar.

Another thing that surprised me about them was that, despite the Revolution and the war, the Valincourts still lived in such close proximity to Paris and still managed to keep their land, assets (they were and are very rich) and more importantly, their heads. Max told me that they were great benefactors of the families that lived in the area so, when the Revolution came, the people protected them. They're the perfect example of that old saying – what goes around comes around.

We ended up staying with the Valincourts for a couple of weeks and it was there that Max started teaching me. Gina also taught me a few tricks on the side, the kind of tricks a woman could use on men who underestimate us. It was fun, and it certainly was the best way to kick-start our journey.

The next immortal we met was aboard ship to America. Max didn't know this immortal, but we soon became acquainted. He was a doctor and called himself Benjamin Adams, although both Max and I had a hint that that wasn't his real identity. Not that that was very important, immortals often change identities – it's a necessity. He seemed to be easy going sort of guy and a good companion on a long trip. Benjamin told the craziest stories and we found ourselves seeking his company often. Even though we kept poking him to tell us _his_ story, he never did.

Later, much later (quite recently, in fact, by immortal standards) I found out who Doctor Benjamin Adams really is. He's the oldest one of all of us – Methos. This guy is over five thousand years-old. He witnessed events categorized in History books as _Ancient_.

Methos is the most pragmatic and cynical person I have ever met. In fact, it was him, in the guise of Benjamin Adams, who encouraged me to keep a gun at hand and to use it when I find myself in trouble. His words were '_do you want to keep your honor or do you want to keep your head?_'

The three of us disembarked in New York in November, 10th of 1805 and there Benjamin left us. Max and I stayed in New York for a while still. It was a big city, but very different from the ones we knew in Europe. I felt lost there and it took me a while to get used to it. Fortunately, Max chose to stay with me a while longer, even though he was itching to see the Wild West. You see, by then our relationship had evolved from the initial teacher-student status to something more intimate. Not that we were in love, but we did take a lot of pleasure from each other's company. Max was my first lover has an immortal. I had had a fling with a young man in the circus, an apprentice lion tamer with straw-blond hair and green eyes. Our relationship was short-lived and it ended when he didn't accompany us to Marseille. Smart guy. I wonder if he ever knew what happened to us.

Anyway, eventually Max talked me into traveling west with him. We went all the way to the Pacific and lingered there for a while. After that, he wanted to go south to, but I started feeling homesick and longing for the sights and sounds I had grown up with. We didn't compromise and ended up parting ways.

It was good while it lasted and after five years of living together we parted as friends.


	13. Chapter 13

_Vienna, 5th of April of 2013_

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It took me far less time to return to Paris then it had for me to leave and I arrived at Darius' doorstep in the spring of 1811. It was a relief to see my mentor was still there, preaching to all who would listen. This time I arrived in mid-service and sat in the back until it was over. After it was over, we talked for a while, catching up on how the years had been. I don't really remember what we told each other that day, but I knew we parted with calmer hearts.

This time, I did not stay with Darius for any extended length of time. I had other plans. When, five years earlier, I had met the Valincourts, Gina and I had discussed our common passion for music and she had told me that it was her biggest regret that, despite her love, she had no talent for it. At the time, I played a few tunes for her (stuff I had learned while still at the circus) and she had complemented me on them. She asked me if I intended to study on and offered to help me out, but at the time I was not ready or willing to do so. She understood it was the wrong time for me and did not push. Immortals run on a different time than mortals, we can afford to wait.

Well, I was ready. I had been dreaming of it since attending a concert with Max in Atlanta. It was one (probably the main) reason that had led me to return to Europe. So, I went back to Valincourt Castle, hoping Gina would help me, and she did.

Once again, the Valincourts received me with open arms. They pretty much adopted me into the family. They told everyone I was their niece, coming to stay with them to study music.

This was what happened – I stayed with them for three years, far longer that I had expected. As it turned out, becoming a proficient musician is a lot harder than I had anticipated. It takes a great deal of training and unwavering dedication. When I began, I thought I had a good basis to start from. I had learned a few things with other performers in the circus and, since then, I had taught myself a great many things, but as it turned out, that previous knowledge hindered me more than helped. I had many vices and was very undisciplined. Before I started learning, I had to unlearn all that I thought I knew.

Many times, I wanted to give up, but my love for music was always stronger that my frustration so I carried on.

I'll never forget my first solo concert. It was Christmas, 1814, in one of the medium sized theaters in Paris. The Valincourts sponsored it, naturally. They invited the _crème de la crème_ of Paris, which included many members of distinguished families, renowned maestros and musicians and even some members of the new court. You see, by then Napoleon had been overthrown and exiled to island of Elba and a throne had been returned to Louis XVI's son.

Is it vanity to say that my first concert went swimmingly? Maybe, but it did. It was fabulous. People came to congratulate me and invite me to their houses. I was back in the spotlight and loving it.

It didn't take long for my name to be mentioned and recognized. I think my albinic appearance helped me there. It made it easy for people to refer to me without confusion.

Soon after, I traveled to Vienna. I was thrilled to be invited there by a local noble man. Vienna was considered the city of musicians, so to be invited, even if it was only for a small vernissage, was a great honor.

Wonderful times were those...


	14. Chapter 14

_Vienna, 12th of April of 2013_

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I was still in Vienna when, in March of 1815, I got the news that Napoleon had escaped Elba and had returned to France to reclaim his throne. I immediately felt the urge to get as far away as I could, but this time I didn't go. Instead, I decided that I wouldn't allow Napoleon's comings and goings to dictate my life. I was an immortal and I had just started my musical career - if those weren't good enough reasons to not be intimidated, I didn't know what were. It was a good thing too because Napoleon's return was short-lived. After a disastrous campaign in Waterloo, in which around seventy-five thousand men died, the Duke of Wellington defeated Napoleon once and for all. This epic battle took place on the 18th of June of 1815, three days after I returned to Paris.

The first thing I did upon my return was, as usual, to look up Darius. I was looking forward to telling him all about my days in Vienna, the concerts and the connections I had made there, but for the first time, he was not there. I was worried, very worried.

I sought out one of the other priests and asked about my mentor. He told me Darius had gone to the front, to tend to the wounded and offer solace when needed. I was even more worried, but there was nothing I could do, so I waited and hoped and prayed that he would return safely and soon.

He did. Well, not soon, but safely. After I heard the news of Napoleon's defeat, I still had to wait almost a whole month for Darius. Every day I went to his church hoping to find him, and every day I returned to Valincourt Castle alone (yes, I was still staying with Robert and Gina).

When Darius finally returned he wasn't alone. With him was another immortal, a tall and well-built man with dark hair and brown eyes. He introduced himself as Duncan MacLoud of the Clan MacLoud. Yes, he stated the entire sentence – '_I am Duncan MacLoud of the Clan MacLoud'_, in one breath and with a heavy Scottish accent. I felt the urge to laugh, but restrained myself. I'll admit my first impression of him wasn't the best - I thought he was a bit of a bruit - but I soon realized I was wrong. My judgment was clouded by a tinge of jealousy because he had so quickly gained Darius' confidence. Also, I soon realized Duncan MacLoud was already a good friend of the Valincourts having even attended their wedding a century before which didn't really help me to get over my envy.

But I did. It's hard to not like Duncan MacLoud of the Clan MacLoud. He's so honest, forthcoming and honorable. He's also extremely handsome, which helps us girls like him.

Here is a little of MacLoud's story. He was born in 1592 in the Highlands of Scotland and was adopted by the chieftain of the Clan MacLoud. In his clan, he was brought up to be a warrior (like Darius, amazing how many immortals' stories are similar) and to succeed his father in leading the clan. He never made it, though. In a dispute with a neighbouring clan, MacLoud suffered his first death. When he regained consciousness in his father's home, he found the entire clan mourning him. They were astounded by his reawakening and did not take it well. Believing this to be a case of sorcery, Duncan's family expelled him from their land. I can only imagine who awful it must have been for him to go through that.

Anyway, a few years later, he was living not very far from his clan's land when he met another one of us, one he had heard of in legend. It was another clans-mate, Connor MacLoud (two immortals in one clan; the Highlands are apparently a good place to sprout immortals). The rest is the usual - Connor taught Duncan the ways of immortality and then Duncan set out into the world, which led him to fight in many battles, travel to many foreign lands and so on and so on...

So, again I made a new friend.

MacLoud stayed with Darius and the rest of us for a few months still, but eventually, he needed to move on. Another immortal who wanted to see America. I gave him a few pointers and he was on his way. When I saw him leave, I thought of Max and wondered what he was up to. I hoped he was all right.

This is part of the immortal curse - no matter what you do, where you are or what you want, there is always a part of you that wants to be somewhere else and with someone else. You are never content. Maybe if I could keep everyone I love in one place, so that I could keep an eye on them, I wouldn't worry so much.

But that is one thing we can't do, no matter how many centuries we live. Like with the wolves I raised back in my little niche of the world, I have to let my friends go and trust that they can take care of themselves.


	15. Chapter 15

_Vienna, 26th of April of 2013_

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Spring has finally arrived to Vienna after a very long and dismal winter, and the orchestra I have been playing for is rehearsing a new piece. But that doesn't mean anything to me since it is time for me to move on. I have been living this identity for twenty-five years and if I remain in it, people will start to wonder about certain facts. You see, makeup only takes you so far and you have to apply it a certain way every single day it becomes easy to make mistakes, not to mention that when I use it for too long, it gives a very itchy and hard to cover-up rash.

So, I have to go away, to some place no one knows me and start all over again. I usually dye my hair a different color (something very easy to do when one's hair is almost completely white) and sometimes I put on colored contact lens. This act of disguising my albinism is something I learned a long time ago; when I learned that it is much easier for others to remember you if you sport an exotic look like that and you don't want to keep being compared to that _other_ albino performer that lived many years ago.

I remember when I learned this. It was in the Christmas of 1860, when I was living my third identity and I agreed to play in Darius' Christmas Mass. I had changed my name, but I hadn't thought of changing my looks. In the end of the mass, an old couple came to me and asked if I was related to Claire Giovannelli, an Italian musician whose performance they had attended in their youth. I said that I was her granddaughter and when they asked me about her, I told them that she had died years ago. I tried to remain calm through our brief exchange, but inside I trembled. Fortunately, they didn't notice. Darius did, though, but that was okay.

After everyone left, Darius took me to his kitchen for tea and we talked about it. I admitted that I hadn't thought of how easily people would recognize me after so many years and he agreed that he hadn't thought of it either. There aren't that many immortals that share my circumstances; at least he had never met one before. When I asked him what did he usually do to hide his former identity since St. Joseph's had been his home for so many centuries, he told me he didn't. The monastery there is usually a temporary location for the monks, so they usually don't linger for more than a few years, and those who do ... well, they probably thought Darius was blessed by God or something. Basically, it was a non-issue for him.

So, I have to decide where I'll move next and what I'll look like and what my personal history will be. I think I'll be a green-eyed redhead this time.


	16. Chapter 16

_Vienna, 3rd of May of 2013_

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I usually take some time off between identities. It's a time when I'm no longer Claire 'Thayer' but not yet Claire 'Morron'. I usually spend this time visiting a close friend, not just so he or she gives me a hand at changing identities, but also so someone knows how to find me if necessary. I don't really like disappearing in the wind.

It was in one such break that I met Amanda. It was the turn of the century, when 1800's became the 1900's, and there was something in the air in Europe; it was becoming toxic again, as if something was about to break out. On the other side of the Atlantic, America was thriving again, after the end of the Civil War, so I thought it would be a good destination. Moreover, I hoped to find Max again.

So, after I bid farewell and see you soon to Darius and the Valincourts, I got on a ship, this time in Lisbon, and headed west.

When I arrived in New York, I found MacLoud waiting for me (apparently, Darius had sent a message ahead, and with him was a tall and athletic brunet, with piercing brown eyes and a constant smirk. I immediately recognized she was guarding Duncan from the prospect of another woman's arms. I think I immediately liked her.

Amanda is the wildest, most-fun-to-be-around person I ever met. She is also my most untrustworthy friend I ever had. If I want to walk on the wild side, I call Amanda; if I want some good-honest and trouble-free time, I stay as far away from her as possible. Basically speaking, she has a good heart, but she lives to get into trouble.

Amanda is now around 1200 years-old, she was born in Normandy and she has always been and always will be a thief. Her usual targets are museums, banks and the obscenely rich and, on occasion, she even likes to play _Robin Hood_. She is crazy about MacLoud, although she also is crazy enough to walk away and leave him to clean up her messes. He is usually not amused. In my opinion, it is these habits that keep them from hooking up permanently.

But I was writing about how I met Amanda. She was holding on to Mac's arm like it was hers and when he signaled me and I approached them, she immediately held out her hand to me, introducing herself without even letting Mac speak. In fact, this went on through out the evening. I think she viewed me as a possible competitor.

Fortunately, I wasn't intimidated by Amanda's manners and welcomed her exuberant nature. In a way she reminded me of some of the people I grew up with - performance artist usually have huge egos - so we hit it off. I spent a couple of weeks with them then, until Amanda cooked up some of her mischief and had to flee the state in a hurry or risk being beheaded by her target. Duncan ended up having to face the other immortal in her stead (this is one of Mac's trademark features, he always helps the damsel in distress, even if she is not a damsel or in distress). I don't know if he actually took the other guy's head or if they settled it some other way.

After this little adventure, I headed south, again half-hoping to find Max. I hadn't seen him since we parted so many decades ago but I knew he was still around from the letters he sent Darius. I ended up finding him almost a year later, in the city of Rio de Janeiro, in Brazil where he was engaged to a politician's daughter. Needless to say. I didn't linger for their wedding. I left in the first transport out.


	17. Chapter 17

_Vienna, 11th of May of 2013_

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I don't know what I was thinking when I left Rio de Janeiro after meeting Max and his fiancée. I just knew the last thing I wanted to do was to stay for their wedding.

For the whole trip back north, all I could think about was how crazy Max was for marrying a mortal. At the time, that concept was foreign to me. I remember wondering how he would explain the fact that he healed so fast and never got old to her. Would he reveal himself to her? Would he hope she wouldn't notice? Or would he leave before she asked? I already knew that mortals don't deal well with the concept of immortal people; they either fear us or they want to experiment on us. We're pretty much like aliens from another planet to them. (Which is probably why some of us believe we _are_ aliens from another planet.)

It was a strange coincidence that, while I was passing though Arizona, I ran into Benjamin Adams, who was now running with outlaws (go figure). We hung out for a few days and the subject of marriage came up. He told me then that it was not as uncommon as I thought and that he himself had been married many times. Whether or not he revealed himself to his wives depended on how much he trusted them and he found that if they really loved him, they accepted his immortality. He admitted, though, that when the marriage lasted until the other half appeared older, that was when the problems began.

It was nice to talk to Ben, but I was not fully convinced. I still had that feeling of a hole in the pit of my stomach when I thought of Max's upcoming nuptials.

I don't think I'll ever fully understand what makes an immortal marry a mortal. In my opinion, you're just asking for your heart to be broken. Immortality does not come with extra hearts and I will not allow mine to be broken by a fleeting affair. Fleeting yes, because for an immortal even a span of time of 50 or 70 years is still only a fleeting affair. I don't care the _experts_ say.

Darius used to say I was afraid of commitment. Maybe he was right or maybe I just haven't found anyone I want to spend a lifetime with. I imagine it's pretty hard to watch the one you love so much grow old and die in your arms without being able to do anything; much like losing a child you raised as your own, which is why I never did that either. As you can tell, I don't deal well with loss and it's very hard for me to get involved if I know beforehand that _it_ is inevitable.

So... there you have it. I'm not afraid of commitment, I'm afraid of loss.


	18. Chapter 18

_New York, 17th of May of 2013_

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Well, I've finally settled my affairs in Vienna and left. I'm not sure where I'm going next, so for now I'll just catch some Broadway shows and treat myself to a whole lot of subs, pizzas and burgers. The biggest advantage of being an immortal is that I can eat all the junk food I want and not suffer the consequences.

So, where was I ... ah yes, the turn of the century.

During the first decade of the twentieth century I felt the need to travel - a lot. In fact, I don't think I spent more than a couple of months in the same place. It was like I was trying to escape my own shadow.

I remember it started while I was making my way north after leaving Max in Rio and when I found Ben in Arizona I was already under its effect. So, after Arizona I toured the United States - all of them - and went on to Canada and Alaska. Then I came back south to San Francisco, where I boarded a ship to Hawaii. From there I decided on heading off to Asia, starting with Japan. This part of my journey was particularly useful, since it allowed me to study first had oriental martial arts and improve my dueling skills. I would come to need them since I did encounter a few less-than-friendly immortals along the way.

I also met friendly immortals and ran into Amanda in India. She was attempting to charm a Maharaja in order to ease her access into his treasure. I helped and it was a lot of fun. It was so much fun, in fact, that she talked me into going with her to Russia where she had her mind set on 'acquiring' some Fabérge eggs from the Tzar. That was even more fun although it did get in way more trouble than we expected. But we got away just as we normally do.

After Russia, I headed back to Paris. Christmas day of 1909, I walked into Darius' church once again (yes, it was on purpose). This time I had kept in touch with Darius so he knew I was all right. He was very happy to see me there although he did admonish me for my adventures with Amanda.

This was how I spent the dawn of the twentieth century.


	19. Chapter 19

_New York, 24th of May of 2013_

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The first decade of the twentieth century was one of wonder and amusement for most of the civilized world.

The technology behind motion pictures had begun its development in the final stages of the nineteenth century and was booming. These movies that had started out as just another fairground attraction were now growing in length, in technique, in storytelling ability and, consequently, in audience. Theaters opened with the soul purpose of showing these movies all and people travelled far to watch them. I know I certainly did. I couldn't get enough of them. It was like magic.

Another such wonder that was on the rise in those days was aviation. It still amazes me to remember how fast it developed. It, at the end of the 1800s, the only safe way to travel was using hot air balloons and blimps, less than ten years later, the first motorized heavier-than-air aircraft was flying people across the land. I couldn't wait to get aboard one of those machines, but I would only get my chance in 1914 when commercial fight started. I'll admit that it wasn't has exciting as I thought it would be. Balloons were more fun.

And, of course, I cannot forget the car. I wonder if, when in 1908 Henry Ford built the Model T, he had an inkling of how great his invention would become.

There were other groundbreaking inventions in this span of time that would change the world; the sound radio transmitter in 1906 comes to mind, also the commercial photo film. There were more, of course, I just can't remember them now.

You know ... looking back now, it is a shame that this spree of technology culminated in World War I.


	20. Chapter 20

_New York, 31st of May of 2013_

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When the assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria triggered the start of a new war in Europe, no one ever thought this one would take a worldwide dimension. It was the first time a conflict spread beyond the ocean and reached other continents. This was the start of globalization. Nowhere was safe, but the certainly the region that withstood the bulk of the fights was Europe.

This time I did not run away. I was in Paris when the war broke out and, when Darius felt the need to go into the fields to tend to the hurt, I went with him. Come to think of it, I think it was the first time I did something thinking of others before thinking of myself. It only just hit me how selfish I usually am.

So, I went with Darius. I can't say it was fun (definitely NOT fun) but I felt useful in a way I had never felt before. I got to meet some new people (immortal and mortal) and I got to do a lot of good. I also got to see some seriously horrible things.

There is not much more I want to say about WWI - I was there; I lived it; I wish I could forget it, but I can't; and I think most of all, I wish it had been the ultimate culmination of human violence - as we would all find out in less than thirty years time, it was just the beginning.


	21. Chapter 21

_New York, 14th of June of 2013_

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When the Great War ended, we all breathed in relief but, as it turned out, it was too soon. The dust in the fields hadn't even settled yet and the world was already fighting another battle - this one against the Spanish Flu. It was amazing how fast and how far this virus spread. If, for the last few years we had witnessed the first global war, now we watched the first global pandemic. Coincidence? Definitely not. This epidemic was a consequence of the war. As Darius stated after a particularly gruesome night - God decided to punish humankind for its crimes.

Under the guidance of Grace Chandel (a 600 year-old medical doctor who had had her first death after being burned at the stake for witchcraft and who had been one of the first doctors to witness the rapid progression of the illness in a patient) and Sean Burns (a former monk who had become an immortal when his monastery was burned by Vikings in 805 AD and was now a healer of the soul), Darius, MacLoud, the Valincourts and I took over an old convent just outside of Paris and turned it into a hospital. We poured our hearts and souls into helping the people ho came to us, knowing that even if we might have a worldwide impact, locally we were making a difference and it all that was in our power.

Over the course of the following year, we were joined by a few other immortals who sought to help as well. One of them was Max, having lost his wife to the disease, in Brazil, he had heard of our efforts and had come to help. It felt strange to see him again, especially in those circumstances; he was not his usual fun and charming self, but more like a shadow of the man I had known. I blamed the pain he must have gone through and it served to assert my conviction I was right in not wanting attachments of that kind.

After a year, the strength of the outbreaks started dwindling and, as rapidly as it had emerged, the flu was gone. Modern estimates of casualties are between 50 and 100 million deaths places this pandemic as the deadliest in history. More people died in one year from it than in the whole of the previous world war.

I was there; I bore witness to it; I helped as I could; I hope I never see something like that again.

The war and the disease might not have taken anyone I loved, but it did take whatever was left of my innocence.


	22. Chapter 22

_New York, 21st of June of 2013_

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After enduring a world war and a global epidemic, the world was tired of darkness and was ready to break free from it. It was time to start anew, to break the chains that dragged people down and to let color and joy back into people's hearts. The Roaring Twenties were kicking off.

I, for one, was just as ready for a never-ending party as the rest of the world. This time, I decided to try something different; instead of going on a stage as a musician, I decided to try my hand at acting. The world of theater is not much different from the world of music so I thought I would feel at home and at first I was, but after a while I started to find that the exploit of my deepest feelings for such purposes was starting to gnaw on me. It was disturbing to bring out episodes that I had long ago decided to bury for the sole purpose of giving a character more substance. I guess that was why I didn't do well as an actress.

But my time in the theater was not a total loss, I had a lot of fun with it and it served to reconnect with Max. After the flu had run its course, he had stayed behind with Darius. He needed the sort of solace and comfort that Darius offered so well, and since I had joined a Parisian theater group, we got to see each other a lot. He often came to our shows and, even more often, held my hand when the part I was working on got too much to bare. It was him that eventually got me to see that this life really wasn't for me at all and that I should go back to my first love - music.

Is it strange that when I finally took his advice, he left? Looking back, I think it is. I guess he thought he had done his duty taking care of me for another while and was now ready to be liberated again.

I guess I didn't enjoy the 20's as much I had hoped to, but still I was there and I definitely went to a whole lot of parties. I learned to play Jazz when Jazz was the latest thing.

Looking back now, these ten years were but a blip in my life, they went away as fast as they came - on October 24 of 1929, the stock market crashed and the Great Depression started. After that, the Roaring Twenties were but another memory.


	23. Chapter 23

New York, 28th of June of 2013

Not even History is original any more. I was just going through the news and the I couldn't help but think that I've seen them all before. This has all happened before. I guess it' is another disadvantage of living through the ages. I'm not even that old, I have friends that are two, three, ten times older than me. I wonder what they think of the time we live in now.

The situation many countries, namely the Southern European ones, are living in right now mirrors the state of things the world endured at the end of the 1920s. A period of apparent opulence and wealth, where everything was allowed and the sky was the limit was followed by a worldwide economic crash where unemployment, taxes and social instability rose to unprecedented levels. Families were, and are, losing their homes and having trouble feeding their children. It is fair to state that economy is suffocating society and I can't help thinking that someone in the background is making a lot of money at the expense of the middle classes.

What was I doing back then? Pretty much what I'm doing now. I was lying low, trying to be inconspicuous. At the time, I had attracted the attention of one of those immortals that like to play the Game and he relentlessly stalked me. Since I was considerably out of shape and hadn't taken a head in well over a decade, I thought it best to stay clear of him. It didn't work (it never does) and I had to do what I usually do in these cases. I tricked him, shot him and took his head while he was down. I don't feel guilty about my dishonorable tactic, I defended myself the best way I know how. He was asking for it. Of course, I make a point to not recount these duels to Darius or MacLoud - they frown and look utterly disappointed at me and I really don't need that.

Back then, while the world was busy trying to recover from the depression, in the heart of Europe an even greater darkness was growing. By the time the world became aware of it, it was too late to stop the most devastating war in world history. World War II was beginning.

Let's hope the present depression does not bring in its wake a similar event.


	24. Chapter 24

_New York, 12th of July of 2013_

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I fell behind here. There have been two weeks since I've picked up this diary, or rather, I picked up several times in the past two weeks, but never brought myself to open it and write. I'm not looking forward to remembering the next stage of my life; it was one of the worst I ever went lived. It was one of the worst _the world_ ever lived.

Europe has been the stage of many conflicts throughout History. When the First World War ended, we all thought it was as bad as it could possible get. There was no way Humankind could get any lower. Word War II proved us all wrong.

I won't go into the politics behind the war, everyone knows its causes and effects. Everyone knows how the Nazis round up the people they believed inferior and murdered them. They called it the _Final Solution_, everyone else called it _Genocide_.

For me, this catastrophe had a face - Sara.

I met Sara in the winter of 1942. She was new immortal of Polish-Jewish descent that had lost her family and endured her first death three years earlier, when the Nazis had come for them to take them to the Warsaw Ghetto. She had been ten years-old at the time. She still looked ten years-old when I met her, but her eyes betrayed her apparent age. In those three years they had witnessed more cruelty and death than anyone should ever have to in a full lifetime. You see, she had decided to stick around the ghetto and use her newfound _power_ to help her people. That young girl was far braver in her young age than I had been.

At the time, my friends and I, led by Darius of course, were engaged to helping the Resistance and some of us were tasked with providing Jewish families with safe conducts and escorts to Portugal, where they would be able to get safe passage to America. So, in January of 1942 my path crossed Sara's. The similarities between us brought us closer; we had had our first deaths in a similar way and we were both raised among artists since Sara's father was a poet and her mother a musician like me.

Since I was the first immortal she had ever met, I took it upon myself to teach her the ways of immortality and the rules of the Game. I guess I adopted her. Me, who had always escaped any kind of long-term commitment, was now actively taking care of another. She was a survivor and a very fast learner, but her size and the fact that her body was forever frozen in childhood hindered her fighting skills. This is the reason immortal children are rare to find; they are easy marks for players so they usually don't live for very long after their first death. But I was there for her, and I made it my business to teach Sara all I could to help her survive. I even gave her my gun and told her to use it.

I really though I could protect her and that she would be alright, but once again I was wrong. During the Warsaw Ghetto uprising on April 19th of 1943, I was helping a small group of families escape the mess when I saw at a distance the flashes of lightning that signaled a quickening. For the time it took me to get there, I hoped that Sara had been the victor, that I had taught her well enough, but I hadn't. She was dead.

I never knew the identity of the player who got her. Undoubtedly, he or she was among the Nazi scum that had invaded the ghetto. I don't even know if the player was really after an easy prey or if the encounter was just chance. All I know is that I lost my child and it hurt even more that I had imagined.


	25. Chapter 25

_New York, 26th of July of 2013_

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After Sara died, the rest of the war was a blur to me. Even though I knew her death was no fault of mine, I still felt incredibly guilty. I wanted to make amends, but how do you make amends when the person you failed is already dead?

The answer was to get even more involved with the Resistance and rescue as many people from the Nazis as possible. I got pretty radical at it and even went as far as, like cowboys thieves did in the Old West, to force trains to stop using barriers and then pull the people out. I didn't do I alone, mind you, I managed to find about a dozen others just as crazy as I was. We even tried to storm a concentration camp once. Unfortunately, we failed miserably and ended up getting ourselves killed. Fortunately, we were all immortal to begin with so... no harm done. And it kept me occupied for the rest of the war, stopping me from falling into the kind of deep depression I had been through when I lost my family. Morning the dead could wait.

I guess it was fortunate that this war was not that long; not that anyone would think of it was short, but a timespan of six years is pretty tame compared to other wars Europe has seen. Considering the atrocities committed by both sides (and here I need to point out that the Holocaust was not the only atrocity the world saw then, the atomic bomb was just as bad) it is a good thing the war did not last another year. I don't think the planet would have survived.

This time, after the war ended, I did not feel like celebrating. All I wanted to do was to crawl to some dark corner, curl up and sleep for a very long time.


End file.
